‘Picha’ pie: As Pinoy as can be!

Pizza was invented by the Italians (as if you didn’t know) in a small town in Naples. (Perhaps you didn’t know that.) That is why Neapolitan pizza, which is named after the natives of Naples, is served in almost every pizza parlor worldwide.

And what does a Neapolitan pizza look and taste like? It has a thin crust, topped with sun-ripened tomatoes and basil, and drizzled with fruity extra virgin olive oil.

Confusing? Too many toppings, you might say? Actually, Neapolitans find most pizzas to be so, especially American pizzas. That is why they say the only similarity Neapolitan pizzas have with American pizzas is the name. For them, the pizza is more about the dough than the topping.

One famous Neapolitan pizza maker said he doesn’t understand why grated parmigiano is sprinkled on top of mozzarella cheese on many non-Italian pizzas. "That is like putting a rag atop another rag," he said. But I do it, too, and I like it, too.

Pizza was served and eaten by the Neapolitans as early as 1700. Today, the word pizza has become a universal household term, most especially among today’s youth. Many senior citizens still say "picha" or "pisa" pie; on the other hand, our maids can say the Italian word correctly. Perhaps, this is because the pizza has crossed nationalities and economic borders and is as common as the American hamburger (still called "hamburjer" by some). But the proud Neapolitans challenge, "Is it really pizza?"

In the Philippines, we have many versions of this famous Italian pie – which we first discovered from the Americans– and there is certainly one that would cater to one’s taste and budget. I remember eating a pizza topped with potatoes when I was backpacking in Rome back in 1979. It was the cheapest and most filling thing one could subsist on, with one’s shoestring budget.

Neapolitans may not agree with us and may be horrified when they see us eat our Pinoy pizza (and our sweet spaghetti!) with much gusto. That was exactly how our Sicilian friend Calo Franchina reacted when he saw a dish of cold macaroni salad, replete with boiled chicken tidbits, pineapple chunks, raisins and lots of mayonnaise at a Filipino gathering. But who cares? That’s us. That’s the way we like things to be. And so, we shall eat and enjoy their invention, the Filipino way. Mary Ann puts tuyo on her pizzas on top of anchovies and pepperoni, and she swears by it.

In my hometown of Angeles City, we say that Armando Nepomuceno, of the famous Nepomuceno clan, is the "king" of pizza. He opened the city’s first pizza parlor in May 1973, and aptly called it King Pizza. It was initially housed in a structure built of nipa, bamboo, and sawali located along the city’s main street of Sto. Rosario. Divine Bovine (all ground beef and cheese) was its best seller. The pizza crust was thin and crispy. Diners would often remark, "Manyaman ing pichapay keni." Thus, to many Angeleños, their first taste of and first love affair with pizza are often at King Pizza, making it the local benchmark of what a great pizza fit for a king should be.

In 1980, the pizzeria moved to a new home, a century-old camalig (Kapampangan for "shed") that was restored, renovated, and adaptively re-used as a restaurant. Today, the "king" has long died, but his pizza parlor, which is now called Armando’s Pizza in his honor, is still much around. His son Marc makes sure the pizzas are still like the way the "king" used to make them. That is, the secret sauce, which is a li’l bit on the sweet side, is prepared for long hours in the kitchen by his cook.

Greenwich, 3M, Shakey’s and Pizza Hut came to town, but Armando’s has stood the competition from these giants and even edged out of business Domino’s and Little Caesar’s, which dared operate nearby.

Mary Ann loves pizza, be it the fast food type or the brick oven-baked one, "pumuputuk putuk ’yung crust" as she fondly describes it. She often craves for a freshly baked Bovine Divine; it is almost like comfort food to her. Our teenage son Nico prefers the All the Way, with everything on it, including double pepperoni and cheese. I prefer the Pinoy Classic, with its native longaniza and ebun buru (salted duck egg), an original invention on the menu. Our nephews Renz and Jem like the New Yorker with lots of pepperoni the most.

Last month, in celebration of its 32nd anniversary, Marc held Armando’s Pizza’s first annual pizza-eating contest. Mary Ann was asked to be one of the judges, and I took the photos.

We had our own contest, guessing what kind of contestant would most likely win. I insisted the one who would gobble up the pizzas in big mouthfuls and swallow everything without chewing would win. Mary Ann insisted it would be the one who eats slowly but surely. "Because if you eat fast, you will tire fast and even spew it out," she said.

When we entered Camalig, it was already jampacked with people, all eagerly awaiting the night’s finals. When Mary Ann heard that it would be a 10-inch Bovine Divine pizza, although served whole, they would be devouring, she asked if she could join the eight contestants, too.

"No, you eat too slow and are too proper," I said.

"At least I get to have an entire Bovine Divine all to myself," she said.

"And make a fool of yourself?" I added, just to make sure she didn’t dare go up the stage.

The contestants, all winners and runners-up during the past four weekends, participated either for fun, for their 15 minutes of fame or for the money. It could not have been for the pizza because they would have no time to taste it, to be sure. They were vying for the championship title and were eyeing the first prize of a P3,000 gift certificate in the form of Armando’s "money." So they could buy more pizzas to taste, Mary Ann said in jest. They were all males, with ages ranging from ’teen to above 30. Surprisingly, they were all medium-built.

When the game started, they all quickly folded, chomped and swallowed their pizzas as fast as they could, unmindful of the toppings that spilled out on the tray. In between, they gulped iced tea to push lumps of unchewed pizza down their throats. They all struggled, and when they had entirely consumed their pizza, they scooped the droppings with their bare hands and stuffed it back into their mouths, which were still full. No morsel should be left on the tray, and if a contestant vomited, he was automatically eliminated from the game. The whole thing, which could be exciting but unsightly at times, lasted only for over two minutes.

Now, who won the contest?

The youngest of all, Choco Flores, started slow and chewed every mouthful with such deliberateness. He was behind the rest initially, but he caught up and won third place at a time of 3:10 minutes. The one who ate fast and took big bites and who I thought would win had a very good start. But he got tired and spewed out most of his pizza. The champion, Regie Torres, finished the entire pizza in 2:10 minutes. His bites were big but not fast. And he gulped more iced tea than the rest. When he raised his hands, he could still smile and talk, proving there was nothing left in his mouth.

Torres claimed that he literally grew up on Armando’s pizzas. His dad used to bring him there when he was still a toddler.

One important element to winning an eating contest, I guess, is you must like the food very much. I admit I am fond of eating, and that I can really eat. But I will not dare join any eating contest, because I know I do not have the stomach for it. Though now I know, I might have a good chance of winning if it were a crispy lechon-skin eating contest, while Mary Ann may out-eat many of you if it were a tuyo-eating contest. And it’s the saltier the better for her.

Congratulations to all the winners, participants and the historic Camalig Restaurant, the home of Armando’s Pizza.